Fic Recs: Popslash
While I did say I would do curtain!fic tonight, and I do have a few, I'm putting those off until tomorrow. Behold, author recs:
Popslash
Rhys ( rhyssj)
The last leg of my popslash obsession was a Rhys phase - I probably read everything on the site, and I completely stalked her LJ. These are three of my favourites.
The 7-Eleven Experience
JC/Justin
In which there is jealousy and nachos and cybersex. Also, carpooling.
"I can’t believe you’re on a first name basis with the 7-Eleven people"
Flame
JC/Lance
"No," Chris said, dragging JC back into the room, "no fur, you asshole. Take that off."
JC looked like a confused deer, staring down racing headlights. "But why?"
"Shut up," Chris snapped, digging through JC's suitcases while Lance wandered in and said, "hey, nice coat, Jayce. I almost bought that the other day, but Joey said I couldn't pull it off. You look really good," Lance said, admiring the stitching.
Chris's head popped out of the closet. "And you! No bedazzled jean-wear, you idiot!"
Lance looked down at his floral-decorated denim outfit. "But I look good."
"He really does," JC affirmed.
Dirty Numb Angel Boy
JC/Justin
Breathtaking.
Chris looks up from his stool at the mike, papers in his hand, and Justin knows Chris understands what Justin's about to do because Chris is already up, his dark eyes furious. Justin laughs.
Justin takes flight and sails out the door, and his sneakers squeak on the floor, speaking his language. Chris is screaming behind him, and Justin's smiling because this bird has wings, and he's going back to where it's full and alive and destructive, where he can suffer for his sins and drive the evil out of his skin.
Justin is going to fly far away.
Synecdochic ( synecdochic)
One of the best because she has all of these totally original ideas and writes neat meta and does quirky little AUs that just blow my mind. Three of my favourites from her:
Twentythree
JC/Lance
It always takes him a while before his eyes adjust, and he picks his way across the room hoping that he hadn't left his pants lying on the floor waiting to reach out a hand -- well, okay, a leg -- and yank him down by the ankles. His pants are malevolent like that sometimes. Stupid pants. Every now and then he ponders staging a revolt and banishing them in favor of a kilt or something, except he's got bony knees.
Don't Fall Through the Stars
Chris/Justin
Warning: AU
The track was Allen Ginsberg reading poetry, with Tom Waits wailing behind him on the piano, and Chris muttered along: "my national resources consist of two joints of marijuana, millions of genitals, an unpublishable private literature that goes 1400 mph and twenty-five thousand mental institutions," as he turned the page and pushed his glasses further up his nose. One of his braids slipped from the hair-tie that held them up and out of his face, and he tucked it behind his ear in irritation. His coffee was cold, and he probably needed to make a new pot soon, but there was nobody there to drink it except for him. Wasn't worth the trouble.
Borderlines
Justin-centric
Warning: gen
Jay is twenty-two years old. Jay just graduated from college and has a nice job lined up for him halfway across the country. Jay likes reading and plays video games and messes around online more than is really good for him. Jay has Martin, his boyfriend who's studying to be a massage therapist and likes stuff that's a little more kinky than Jay's used to, but Jay always likes to try. Jay's got about forty thousand dollars in student loans to pay back, and just recently got his first credit card, and sometimes winds up eating ramen at the end of the month when he doesn't budget well enough and has to take both his car insurance and his health insurance payments out of the same paycheck.
Jay doesn't exist anywhere but in a few computers and inside two people's heads. Maybe three, if you count Jay's godmother. He doesn't, though. Not really.
Popslash
Rhys ( rhyssj)
The last leg of my popslash obsession was a Rhys phase - I probably read everything on the site, and I completely stalked her LJ. These are three of my favourites.
The 7-Eleven Experience
JC/Justin
In which there is jealousy and nachos and cybersex. Also, carpooling.
"I can’t believe you’re on a first name basis with the 7-Eleven people"
Flame
JC/Lance
"No," Chris said, dragging JC back into the room, "no fur, you asshole. Take that off."
JC looked like a confused deer, staring down racing headlights. "But why?"
"Shut up," Chris snapped, digging through JC's suitcases while Lance wandered in and said, "hey, nice coat, Jayce. I almost bought that the other day, but Joey said I couldn't pull it off. You look really good," Lance said, admiring the stitching.
Chris's head popped out of the closet. "And you! No bedazzled jean-wear, you idiot!"
Lance looked down at his floral-decorated denim outfit. "But I look good."
"He really does," JC affirmed.
Dirty Numb Angel Boy
JC/Justin
Breathtaking.
Chris looks up from his stool at the mike, papers in his hand, and Justin knows Chris understands what Justin's about to do because Chris is already up, his dark eyes furious. Justin laughs.
Justin takes flight and sails out the door, and his sneakers squeak on the floor, speaking his language. Chris is screaming behind him, and Justin's smiling because this bird has wings, and he's going back to where it's full and alive and destructive, where he can suffer for his sins and drive the evil out of his skin.
Justin is going to fly far away.
Synecdochic ( synecdochic)
One of the best because she has all of these totally original ideas and writes neat meta and does quirky little AUs that just blow my mind. Three of my favourites from her:
Twentythree
JC/Lance
It always takes him a while before his eyes adjust, and he picks his way across the room hoping that he hadn't left his pants lying on the floor waiting to reach out a hand -- well, okay, a leg -- and yank him down by the ankles. His pants are malevolent like that sometimes. Stupid pants. Every now and then he ponders staging a revolt and banishing them in favor of a kilt or something, except he's got bony knees.
Don't Fall Through the Stars
Chris/Justin
Warning: AU
The track was Allen Ginsberg reading poetry, with Tom Waits wailing behind him on the piano, and Chris muttered along: "my national resources consist of two joints of marijuana, millions of genitals, an unpublishable private literature that goes 1400 mph and twenty-five thousand mental institutions," as he turned the page and pushed his glasses further up his nose. One of his braids slipped from the hair-tie that held them up and out of his face, and he tucked it behind his ear in irritation. His coffee was cold, and he probably needed to make a new pot soon, but there was nobody there to drink it except for him. Wasn't worth the trouble.
Borderlines
Justin-centric
Warning: gen
Jay is twenty-two years old. Jay just graduated from college and has a nice job lined up for him halfway across the country. Jay likes reading and plays video games and messes around online more than is really good for him. Jay has Martin, his boyfriend who's studying to be a massage therapist and likes stuff that's a little more kinky than Jay's used to, but Jay always likes to try. Jay's got about forty thousand dollars in student loans to pay back, and just recently got his first credit card, and sometimes winds up eating ramen at the end of the month when he doesn't budget well enough and has to take both his car insurance and his health insurance payments out of the same paycheck.
Jay doesn't exist anywhere but in a few computers and inside two people's heads. Maybe three, if you count Jay's godmother. He doesn't, though. Not really.